


Homeward Bound, Wherever Home Is

by Shmaptain_Shmerica



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt Steve Rogers, Natasha Feels, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 18:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11629779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shmaptain_Shmerica/pseuds/Shmaptain_Shmerica
Summary: Steven Grant Rogers; the man that was Captain America. After the defrosting, he wasn't given the choice to be anything but a hero and a symbol, like in the war. But he wasn't that person anymore. After what was named a "Civil War" by the tabloids, he could be free of the title of Captain America. However, that came with many consequences: he, and friends are on the run from the law. Natasha Romanoff was the woman that was no longer sure of who she was anymore. But hey wanted to find each other. They needed to find each other. And they would make sure of it.





	Homeward Bound, Wherever Home Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanogersotp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanogersotp/gifts).



> Hi everyone. This is the first fanfic I've posted, so I hope it goes well. The song included in the fic is "I'm a Wanted Man", by Royal Deluxe. Comments are very much appreciated. My writing is probably horrendous, and I haven't decided yet if this will be a oneshot or if I will add chapters. We'll see how it ends up. I've been inspired by multiple pages to write fics, but one specific person I write this work for is a person that always, always accepts people for who they are and never hesitates to be there to help. Thank you for reading!

 

_The law ain’t never been a friend of mine_

_  
I would kill again to keep from doing time_

_  
You should never ever trust my kind_

 

 _Natasha Romanoff, one of the greatest people Steve Rogers has ever known. He couldn't take his mind off of her, no matter how he tried. She was always crawling back into his mind when he wasn't somehow distracted; not to say running for his life isn't one of the most distracting thing he could think of at the moment._ He heard the door open, springing him back to reality. "Hey, man. Do you need anything?" Sam stepped into the lab, looking to Steve slumped over on a metal table. "Hmm? Uh, no. No thank you, Sam." He looked back towards him, nodding. Steve looked back up the cryo tube, watching Bucky's never-changing, sleeping expression. "Steve, hello?" Sam said, waving in front of Steve's face. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "just thinking about shit, is all." Sam knew how troubled Steve was. He could tell, they all could. Clint always tried to get some food in his stomach, though Steve was never hungry. Wanda tried to get his nose into a new book every other day, to get his mind off of whatever consumed him at the time. Sam sighed, looking at his friend. "Come on, Steve. Let's get you up and out of here. Maybe a shower would do you some good." Steve chuckled slightly, getting off of the table, pulling the leather jacket tighter around his body. "Are you saying I smell?" "What? 'Course not." Sam said, opening the door again to leave. "Actually, now that you mention it..." he snickered, walking out into the hallway of glass and shutting the door behind him. Steve looked to the cryo again, placing his hand on it's frosted surface. He stood there, staring at his feet. "They'll figure it out soon, pal. I promise you." Walking out of the lab, Steve could almost hear him.

"You're damn right, punk."

 

* * *

 

 

 _Steve Rogers, one of the greatest people Natasha Romanoff has ever known. She couldn't take his mind off of him, no matter how she tried. He was always crawling back into her mind when she wasn't somehow distracted; not to say hiding for her life wasn't one of the most distracting things she could think of at the moment._ Natasha walked into her beyond tiny apartment that she chose in a small town in southern France. She tossed her coat into a near arm chair, slumping on her back onto a single person bed. There was a TV, however, it had only two channels. One was the news, the other was some sitcom she barely understood that seemed to always re-run the same episode. The only other entertainment she had was reading some novel she bought from an old woman a few streets away in a shop that looked as if it stood there since the beginning of time. One of the legs on her already uncomfortable bed was broken, so she had to keep it standing by stacking a pile of books underneath it. Every night she wanted a book to read, she would be choosing another restless night due to a lopsided bed. Not that she minded terribly, it gave her time to think. She told herself she didn't think about him. Where he was, how he was coping, who he was with. Just saying his name over and over, hugging her stiff-as-a-rock pillow; it gave her some hope he was alright. After many hours of lying in her bed, thinking, staring at the ceiling, she decided she needed to find him. To see him, feel his face. To keep her mind from running wild, sleep was her best bet. She would leave the next morning, taking nothing with her but love, all the way to Steve.

 

_I’m a wanted man_

  
_I got blood on my hands_

  
_Do you understand?_

  
_I’m a wanted man_

 

That next morning, Steve awoke in his bedroom where T'Challa had insisted they stayed. It was in the same facility where Bucky was currently kept while in the cryo. It was safe. But it wasn't home. Not even close. He crawled out of his bed, still half asleep. In his bathroom, he splashed water onto his face, rubbing his eyelids. Opening his eyes, he glanced in the mirror to see a man. A broken, shattered man. He had a scruffy, overgrown beard, with long and messy, dirty blond hair covering his ears and drooping down to his brow. Steve was terrified. He hadn't realized who he'd become. Looking at this man, it was...sad. Pathetic, a disappointment. Without realizing it, he'd broken into tears, dripping from his eyelashes down his cheeks. He sobbed, letting his head fall above the sink. He choked back his tears, then gathering his breath. Looking back up to the mirror, seeing this man with bloodshot eyes and flustered cheeks, wetness dripping down his face. He now understood. This wasn't Steve Rogers. Surely not Captain America. He needed something new. Someone new. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Quickly packing the smallest suitcase he could find, he left the facility in Wakanda.


End file.
